


Arrangements

by mrs_leary (julie), yue_ix



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: Age Difference, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-08
Updated: 2011-10-08
Packaged: 2017-10-24 10:07:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/262255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/mrs_leary, https://archiveofourown.org/users/yue_ix/pseuds/yue_ix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard  and Colin are ‘friends with benefits’; when Colin attempts to renegotiate their  arrangement, Richard resists making it into anything more than what it is. And  he seems to be justified in his wariness. As Richard directs Colin and Bradley  in a production of <em>Edward II</em>, it  becomes clear that the two young men are in love. Richard refuses to stand in  their way, but now Colin is the one reluctant to change the existing  arrangements.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arrangements

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's notes:** Written for the **Merlin RPF Big Bang Challenge 2011** on LiveJournal organised by the wonderful **moonilicious**. ♥  
>  ♦ Beta-ed by the amazing asifidletyou and reveuse2 ♥ (remaining infelicities are my own)  
> ♦ The story was inspired, of course, by Colin’s real life trip to Sheffield to see _The Pride_ on Richard’s 75th birthday… ♥  
>  ♦ The quotes are from Marlowe’s _Edward II_ , except for _Let me explain about the theatre business…_ which is from the movie _Shakespeare in Love_ by Tom Stoppard and Marc Norman.  
>  ♦ Dedicated with love to **yue_ix** who came looking for a rare pair to illustrate ♥ and to **asifidletyou** who is about the most thoughtful and generous person I know. ♥
> 
>  **Artist's notes:** Thank you to **littlewolfstar** for the beta and handholding. **mrs_leary** , doing this with you was like a dream. ♥  
> 

♦

# The Perfect Day

  


#### 9 July 2011

Even the inevitable delays on the way back from Sheffield couldn’t spoil their day. Richard smiled gently at his young companion as the train finally started pulling out from Derby. ‘You’re not regretting this, I hope?’

Colin returned his smile with a grin from across the table, head back against the seat, long–limbed and lovely and perfectly at his ease. ‘Not in the slightest.’

‘Still. London to Sheffield and back in one day…’

‘It was an awesome play. I knew it would be great! But you always manage to blow me away regardless.’

‘Oh, it was hardly _me_  –’

‘They were good actors,’ Colin insisted, ‘but I could see your hand in the mix clearly enough, and I was impressed.’

‘Now, that’s not good,’ Richard muttered, wondering how heavy–handed he’d been if the results hadn’t seemed to be naturally and dynamically unfolding, with each character apparently acting – well, if not independently, then at least _inter_ dependently. Perhaps he always expected too much from plays – which were, after all, fictional constructs –

‘Hey.’ Colin sat up, leaning forward on his elbows, and stabbing a finger against the table surface. ‘Only noticeable to someone who knows what to look for. And maybe you’ll grant me that much perception when it comes to acting and directing.’

He smiled again, somewhat relieved. ‘You know I will.’ _I’d grant you almost anything._ Almost.

The edge of Colin’s smile kicked up, as if he were winking at Richard, and the young man sat back again. The two of them were quiet as the speaker overhead crackled into life, and the train manager announced the probability of further delays and a late arrival at St Pancras of possibly forty minutes. Colin grimaced. ‘You still want me to come to this thing with you? The party?’

‘Of course, if you’re still willing. But if you’re not in the mood –’

‘Course I am. It’s just… cutting it fine now. For me to go home and change.’

Richard took the opportunity to cast his gaze over Colin’s checked shirt again, memory filling in the baggy jeans and trainers. When he replied, however, he mischievously took a different path. ‘Don’t ever change, Colin,’ he asked with mock sincerity. ‘I like you just the way you are.’

Colin guffawed. ‘Still. For a champagne reception… And it’s not just any old birthday, is it. It’s your seventy–fifth.’

‘Oh, no one ever dresses up any more,’ Richard replied, skating right over the reminder of his accumulating years. ‘Not for birthday parties like this, anyway. If you’re comfortable the way you are…?’

‘Yeah. Bit _too_ comfortable, maybe.’

‘No, you’ll be fine.’

‘You’ll own me, then?’

Richard chuckled. ‘If only! Oh, if I were in the mood for a taste of scandal this evening… Well. I promise I won’t _dis_ own you, at any rate.’

‘Good.’ Colin was grinning, but he subsided, settling down further in the seat. There was no clue to be seen in his demeanour, but his legs pushed closer under the table, interleaving with Richard’s legs, and the inner curves of his right foot settled against the alas–more–solid planes of Richard’s foot, and even through their shoes Richard could feel the familiar tug of desire’s electric current crackling between them. Colin’s eyelids lowered, his lashes dusting dark against his cheeks. And _really_ … they had yet to attend this damnable reception…

Richard cleared his throat, and sought slightly more ordinary distractions. ‘Colin?’

‘Mmm?’

‘Which role would you have taken? If you’d had the chance?’

‘In _The Pride_?’

‘Yes.’

‘It’s _your_ casting couch,’ Colin replied with a lazy sprawling smile. ‘Which have I earned?’

‘Cheeky…’

But Colin sat up a little straighter, and frowned over a serious response. ‘That’s obvious, isn’t it? The most interesting one. Every time.’

Ah. Of course Richard had his own opinion on that, but he wondered: ‘Which would be…?’

‘The guy with the most to lose.’

Oh!

♦

Colin was of course the perfect date for a man who was out and proud, yet kept his private life private. The young man was cheerful and unfailingly equable, supportive, and yet self–effacing. He was there at Richard’s side when he was wanted, but not so often that anyone had reason to start surmising they were anything more than fond colleagues. And he seemed to have an unerring sixth sense for when Richard wanted another drink.

Richard took his third with alacrity, rolling the stem of the elegant champagne flute between his fingers and almost hearing the sharp pop of the rising bubbles. ‘Thank you.’ He added, ‘No more after this, though. I may have plans for which I need my full faculties.’

Colin gave him another of those confidential twinkling smiles. ‘I’m on my last, too.’ And he lifted a tumbler full of darkness and crema; it looked like the alcoholic equivalent of a double espresso. ‘Black Velvet,’ Colin murmured with an appreciative smack of his lips: ‘the true magical union of Ireland and France…’

Richard laughed in surprise. ‘You actually chose to dilute your Guinness? _Pollute_ your national drink?’

‘Sure, and an Irishman will drink anything. _That’s_ where our pride lies.’

‘Well, don’t expect me to start mixing whisky with champagne – or indeed anything at all!’

Colin kind of gurgled a delighted laugh. ‘We’re not precious about our Guinness, you know. Ah, it’s so fine…’ he took another mouthful. ‘Rich, smooth and sweet…’

‘Colin –’

Those dark blue eyes were staring back at him, solemn and sparkling, deep with sexual promise.

‘Come back to mine –?’ Richard asked, even though he knew really that it was already understood.

‘Course,’ Colin huskily replied. ‘Though I didn’t get back home, and I should ’ve thought to pack.’

‘You’ve already got the necessaries.’ There was a drawer in the guest room that contained fresh pairs of briefs, a toothbrush, and a random collection of whatever Colin had left behind deliberately or otherwise.

‘That I do.’

‘Clothes won’t be an issue,’ Richard dared. ‘Not until morning, anyway.’

Colin pushed closer for a moment, right into Richard’s space – but Richard didn’t step away. In a lower voice still, Colin insisted, ‘Got something I wanna say, anyhow. It’s ’bout time something was said.’

Richard closed his eyes, trying to hide the fact that his heart was sinking. Thumping, too, that was true. Eager and yearning, but also dismayed. ‘Oh,’ Richard managed, in a small voice.

‘Start saying your goodbyes, yeah? I’ll come get you in fifteen, twenty minutes. Is that long enough for the guest of honour to pay his respects?’

‘Yes.’ Long enough and too long. His perfect day was about to go rather pear–shaped.

♦

Colin made a pot of tea while Richard locked the front door and hung up his suit jacket, checked his mail and messages, and opened up the louvres at the back of the house to let in the fresh summer–night air. They met on the sofa, and sat there side by side as the tea brewed, quietly watching a twirl of steam drift through the one gentle beam of light Colin had switched on. Peace resettled, even over Richard. They were so very comfortable together.

They had always been so utterly comfortable together. It was their great strength. They could each be their own selves, whether simple or complex, here and nowhere else; they could be honest and undefended with each other. Richard had only ever felt that to even be possible with two other people in his entire life – and one of them was his sister Moira. The other was… lost long ago, and never his. Perhaps Colin didn’t realise how rare this luxury was.

Eventually Colin leaned forward to pour the tea, and as he sat back Richard murmured, ‘I very much appreciate what we have, Colin.’

‘Good,’ was the reply. ‘Me, too.’

‘Then maybe nothing more needs to be said at all.’

Colin tilted his head in a quibble, and opened his mouth to speak –

‘I’m content, my dear friend. I am content. I would be very sorry to lose that.’

‘It’s not a matter of _losing_ anything,’ Colin said. ‘More the opposite.’

‘But if we –’

‘Richard,’ Colin insisted. ‘It might not be what you’re thinking. Whatever that is.’ He forged on, ‘It’s _not_ those three little words, if that’s what you’re fretting about – cos, hell, we established a long time ago that we love each other, didn’t we.’

‘Yes,’ said Richard, though it had been at most a rhetorical question, ‘I suppose that we did.’

‘Would you just let me say it? And then we’ll see, yeah?’

 _And then we’ll see, indeed._ After a moment, Richard nodded. He could hardly be so churlish as to refuse to listen, could he? After all, he belatedly chided himself, if this _was_ about him and Colin each being their own selves, then Richard must trust the young man. Richard mustn’t try to divert him, though his every instinct clamoured at him to do so. ‘Yes,’ he eventually said. ‘All right.’

Colin let another moment or two drift by, and then he slowly began, ‘I remember last year, on your birthday… thinking that…’ He cast a glance at Richard. ‘Well, I know this was only ever meant to be a casual thing, you and me getting together. But I remember so clearly, wondering if you’d want to know… that I just wasn’t interested in seeing anyone else.’

Richard let out a low laugh. ‘What a delightfully absurd piece of flattery, my friend.’

‘But I haven’t,’ said Colin.

‘I’m sorry? Haven’t what?’ he asked, even as his dismay instinctively started turning into dread.

‘I haven’t seen anyone else. This whole year. And for a while before that, too. We spent your last birthday together, and we’re spending this one together, and –’

Colin faltered to a halt, and turned a surprisingly vulnerable gaze upon Richard – who didn’t voice the conclusion, though Colin was obviously hoping he would. In fact, Richard didn’t say anything.

‘To be honest, there was someone I could have wanted, but he’s straight, so…’ Colin sighed.

‘Someone more your own age.’

‘Yeah…’

‘Then surely any restraint on your part is more about that situation than this one.’

‘No. It’s about us.’

Richard resumed what he hoped was a forbidding silence.

Eventually Colin continued in a small voice, ‘I just think it’s time we acknowledged that this _isn’t_ a casual arrangement. Not anymore. If it ever was.’

But the notion was preposterous, really. Richard scoffed, ‘It’s not as if we’re in the same borough – or département – all that often, and we hardly indulge ourselves every night even when we are…’

Colin was frowning at him, and his mouth was twisted awry.

Richard forged on. ‘So, thank you for the thought, but if you want to pay me a compliment, I’d appreciate something a little more realistic.’

After a moment, Colin insisted, ‘I wouldn’t _lie_ about something like this. Not to you. Not to anyone!’

‘You want me to believe that you haven’t had sex with anyone else for over a year?’

‘Yes.’

‘I see.’

‘I’m not asking whether you’ve –’

‘But I am no longer a young man,’ Richard commented archly.

‘Well. No.’ Colin scowled. ‘Sorry, what does that mean?’

‘What might satisfy me is hardly going to satisfy you, my dear. Is it?’ he added rhetorically.

An unhappy shrug from those lovely wide shoulders. ‘It’s not like I don’t have all kinds of other things in my life. It’s not like I don’t put a lot of time and effort into the work.’

‘I know, but –’

‘Sex is grand,’ said Colin. ‘Sex with _you_ is grander still.’

‘Well, thank you, but –’

‘Have to admit, though… I’d been hoping… if we amp up the arrangement beyond casual, we could start getting together more often. A  _little_ more; doesn’t have to be _much_ more.’

‘I see, and –’

‘I thought this would be _good_ news!’ Colin cried out in sudden frustration. ‘I thought it would be, like… well, maybe not your _best_ seventy–fifth birthday present, but at least in your Top Five.’

‘Oh, my dear friend,’ Richard said warmly. ‘You amaze me. _You are extraordinary._ But I know very well that your finer emotions aren’t engaged in this.’ Colin tried to protest, but Richard overrode him. ‘I know: I love you dearly, as you love me; but we are _friends_ , my dear. Affectionate friends with the most wonderful privileges. This can never be more than that, for either of us.’

‘It is, for me,’ Colin quietly insisted. ‘It has been for a long time, for me.’

Richard just laughed a little, and reached to cup that beautiful face in a fond hand. ‘I suspect we can attribute this to the excessive sentimentality of birthdays shared – and perhaps a little too much Black Velvet.’

Colin winced for a moment, but then his expression turned neutral. He pulled away from Richard’s caress and reached for his cup of black tea, which must be barely lukewarm by now; he gulped half of it down.

Richard settled for patting Colin’s knee with all the reassurance he could muster. ‘At any rate,’ Richard offered, ‘I  _was_ hoping that we could spend a little more time together during this next hiatus from _Merlin_.’

Colin cast a glance at him. ‘How’s that?’

‘Well. Which character do you think has most to lose? Edward or Gaveston?’

Excitement slowly dawned on Colin’s face, and he swung around to address Richard directly. ‘You’re doing _Edward II_? Directing, or –?’

‘Yes, directing. In Manchester. So, which do you think…?’

‘Isabella!’

Richard laughed. ‘You could carry her off perfectly, I’m sure. But tell me –’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Very much so.’

‘So… here we are… on your casting couch…’

Richard looked back at him drolly. ‘You know that has nothing to do with it. Any director worth their salt would offer you any part you ever wanted.’

‘Edward, then!’

‘Done.’

Colin laughed – he almost crowed. ‘I’ll read for it, of course. I’ll audition. You mustn’t do me any favours. My God! What are you going to do with it? The play, I mean. And which theatre?’

‘You’re doing me the favour, I’m not entirely sure yet, and The Royal Exchange.’

‘That amazing space…? In the round – well, in the octagon. Isn’t it eight–sided, or something?’

‘Seven, but who’s counting?’

‘Oh, this is going to be _awesome_. And,’ Colin didn’t forget to add, ‘we’ll be together. For weeks, or months even. We can, you know, share digs, and no one will be any the wiser.’

Richard smiled a little, wistfully. ‘Have you forgiven me, then?’

Colin didn’t answer in words, but took Richard’s nearest hand in both of his, and lifted it to press a kiss to his knuckles.

‘Then, will you indulge me by staying the night, my friend…?’

‘Of course,’ Colin huskily replied. ‘Couldn’t get rid of me right now if you tried.’ And he stood, with Richard’s hand still in his, tugged Richard up to his feet, and then Colin led the way as they climbed the stairs to Richard’s bedroom.

♦

The duvet had been cast aside, they were both entirely naked, and moonlight shone coolly through the wall of windows onto the white sheets – which _glowed_ – but neither of them minded. They were both intensely private men, but there were moments like this when they could simply be themselves, with no shame and no pretences. They could let the sky bear witness to the self–evident truths that they both had hearts that loved, and skin that felt, and mouths and fingers and cocks that worked, and they needed nothing more.

They made love as they often did, with Richard sitting up against the massed pillows, and Colin’s thighs wide as he straddled Richard’s hips, his lovely long fingers and narrow palm wrapped around both their cocks, his own hips rocking as he gently drew the pleasure out, tugged it out further and further still, while Richard slowly unravelled. Richard’s hands and Richard’s gaze were free to explore that long lean body – that lovely body often clumsy and occasionally self–conscious while in public, but forgetting all that now it was just the two of them – the long limbs encompassing Richard, and the narrow planes of the torso and thighs undulating rhythmically, elegantly, the fine cool skin shifting against him, and it was the most exquisite torture because it lasted forever, it was never quite enough, it was so utterly gorgeous and _never enough_ , and Colin had the devil’s own patience, gazing down at Richard with those dark enigmatic eyes, setting the pace as he chose with his hands and his thighs… Sometimes towards the end he’d shift and slide his legs back so that he was lying hard upon Richard, arched back tautly. Sometimes he tumbled off to the side and onto his back, bringing Richard with him to take his turn on top, and still the rhythm would continue relentless and true as Colin thrust up against him. Most of the time, as tonight, Colin would simply stay where he was, the two of them sitting there drinking in the wonder of the sight and sound and feel and taste and scent of each other, and gradually Colin would curl down over Richard, drawing closer and closer – it would take forever, Colin was merciless – until at last _at last_ it was too much _too much_ and Richard was undulating, too, hands firmly shaped around the elegant curves of Colin’s rear, holding him near – the pleasure an ocean that filled him, and then filled him anew with Colin’s forehead pressed heavy on Richard’s shoulder as Colin cried out and came, too, and they both forgot for a precious moment or two about being gentle.

‘Happy birthday,’ Colin murmured that night as they finally settled.

‘The very happiest,’ Richard averred.

They fell asleep together, bound up close under the duvet now, contentedly burrowed in for the night. Really, Richard had never been one for snuggling before there was Colin, but there was just something about him, about the way they were so gorgeously comfortable together… And all seemed perfectly settled between them once more.

In the harsh light of Sunday morning, however, Richard thought Colin seemed a little cooler than usual, a little more closed off. He let him be while they drank their tea, ate their toast. Colin headed back up to shower in the guest bathroom, and when he came back down again, he was fully dressed and had his backpack slung over a shoulder, all ready to go. Nevertheless, he hovered silently by Richard at the kitchen counter, as if unable to leave until something in particular was said or done or acknowledged.

The silence stretched. Until at last Richard murmured, ‘I don’t think you realise how very much I care for you. How very warmly I love you.’

Colin nodded, serious. ‘As friends,’ he qualified in a tone that wasn’t quite neutral.

‘As the very best of friends,’ Richard confirmed.

‘With privileges!’ Colin added with a small grin that wouldn’t be repressed.

‘With the most amazing privileges.’

Again Colin nodded, though he dropped his head as if he still felt defeated.

Richard felt, however, that a potential misstep had been safely negotiated and now they were almost back on track. ‘My dear,’ he offered, ‘I can’t imagine that in the long run you’ll have any regrets about what might or might not have happened between us last night.’

A piercing glance, before Colin turned aside, his public demeanour already effacing his true self. ‘See you in Cardiff, then?’

‘I’m looking forward to it.’

‘Me, too,’ Colin said with a wink. And then he turned away, and was gone. The front door locked behind him with a final clunk, and the house became silent and still.

Richard sighed, and went to sit down at the kitchen table. He was the luckiest bastard in all of history. Surely one day soon it would all come crashing down round his ears…

# ‘Come, Gaveston…’

  


#### 11 October 2011

Richard had lost his original Gaveston, who rather dishearteningly turned his back for an opportunity in the States – to Richard’s astonishment, _despite_ having met and started working with Colin.

And so Richard and Colin spent a long afternoon auditioning other contenders for the role, with rather disappointing results. It was only the two of them there, so they couldn’t have been too intimidating; and the rehearsal space was an oddly cosy long room on the second floor of the Prince of Wales, one of the thespian–favoured pubs of Manchester, so that couldn’t have been too discomforting. Richard liked to sit at a bit of a distance from the actors, that was true, to get a larger view of the possible theatrical performances they might aim for – but surely even that was better than the director sitting right up close and scrutinising them too near. As for Colin…

Colin was of course going out of his way to accommodate the other actors, to make them feel welcome, to let them find their own rhythm, to keep his own performance subtle even though it was already taking shape, to let himself respond and explore and feel his way towards the Edward who might play best against this Gaveston.

Honestly. They were eleven actors down the list now, and Richard had seen eleven intriguingly different Edwards, but barely one Gaveston between the lot of them.

‘Not quite meshing yet,’ was Colin’s tactful verdict. ‘Though there were some fine possibilities…’

‘There were not,’ Richard glumly replied. ‘Don’t humour me.’

‘Now, don’t be like that. You know who we saved for last. You know you’ll be perfectly happy to give him the role, if that’s what it comes down to.’

‘That’s what it’s coming to,’ Richard confirmed – before protesting, ‘He’s so tall, though! He’s more Edward Longshanks than the sweet prince’s French minion…’

Colin nodded soberly. ‘I know he’s not quite what we envisaged, but we can make it work. We can make it work! We both know he’s far too good an actor to be turned away.’

Richard sighed, and let a moment drift by. ‘Oh, bring him in, then.’

Colin headed to the top of the flight of stairs, and called down, ‘Rupert! Are you ready…?’

And with a few great bounds of those long legs, Rupert Young was with them, shaking Colin’s hand and then approaching Richard with all his happy expansiveness in full flow. ‘Richard, how great to see you, thank you _so_ much for this opportunity.’

‘Oh, my pleasure, it’s a pleasure to see you, too, my friend.’

No one could possibly dislike the ever–genial Rupert, and no one who had seen him work with more than a handful of lines could think him untalented, both of which factors explained the ongoing existence of Sir Leon. If Colin felt that he could play an Edward to Rupert’s Gaveston, then Richard wasn’t really going to argue.

‘Now,’ said Richard once the younger men were settled on the two chairs opposite him, ‘we’re going to start with Gaveston’s opening monologue, if you’re happy to do so, Rupert.’

‘Yeah, sure. I’ve prepared –’ he shared a slight humorous grimace with Colin – ‘well, as much as possible. On my own.’

Colin was grinning at him, as if he found Rupert’s good cheer as infectious as anyone. Indeed, Colin was sitting on his hands, as if needing to restrain himself from leaping up and… doing who knew what. Grabbing Rupert. Dancing about the room. Bursting into song.

‘The scene starts with Edward’s letter being delivered, and no doubt we’ll have some business here involving Colin, whether that’s physically with the letter, or speaking those first two lines with you – we haven’t quite decided, it’s early days yet. But for now –’

Colin bent to grab the stand–in prop letter, and held it out to Rupert with the most deliciously eager smile. Richard’s soft old heart inevitably pitter–patted, and even Rupert ducked his head a little shyly as if his own heart were doing much the same. For a moment –

For a moment, Colin’s words came back to Richard. _There was someone I could have wanted, but he’s straight, so…_ Quite naturally, Richard had never enquired further. But it now occurred to him, with Colin’s warm response as expansive as Rupert’s friendly cheer, who the object of Colin’s wistful yearnings might have been. And Rupert being such an obliging sort… Richard had to wonder if the reply to such a suggestion would really have been _no_.

He shook himself. This was not the time for such ponderings.

‘For now, Rupert,’ Richard finally continued, ‘if you would simply take the letter, and perform the speech alone; just whenever you’re ready.’

‘Sure.’

Rupert lowered his head for a quiet moment, centring himself, while Richard and Colin let him be. Richard usually had no trouble letting his gaze fall onto some neutral spot and abide there patiently, thoughtfully, but now instead his gaze wandered of its own volition back towards Colin – who was watching Richard with a mischievous glint from the corner of his eye, and when he caught Richard looking, he winked.

But then Rupert was standing, and taking the letter from Colin – even miming a small bit of business, fetching a coin from his pocket and pressing into Colin’s palm, as if he were only the messenger rather than Edward. Richard found himself sitting up taller, and he tried to hide an appreciative smile.

Rupert’s Gaveston was glad to receive the letter, for he knew who it was from, but once he’d read the first four words, their implications dawned on him, and joy crashed through him. ‘ _“My father is deceased; come, Gaveston,_ | _and share the kingdom with thy dearest friend.”_ ’ He crushed the letter to his heart, while his response poured out of him, a hint of Gascony strengthening in his accent: ‘ _Ah, words that make me surfeit with delight!_ | _What greater bliss can hap to Gaveston_ | _than live and be the favourite of a king?_ ’

Once he was done, Colin and Richard burst into applause, while Rupert laughed in a delight tinged with relief, and took his bows. Richard exchanged a glance with Colin, but they already knew; there was no one to compare, no one else had even bothered taking a stab at the accent; and even now Richard was wondering if they couldn’t turn Rupert’s height into a positive, perhaps chasing down some hint of Edward being weirdly drawn to the long shanks that reminded him of his father, whom he’d both loved and hated…

‘Well,’ said Richard. ‘That was excellent! Truly excellent. And as I’m sure you realise, the part is –’

Rupert was smiling happily at the compliment, but he lifted a hand to request a pause, wanting to say something. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt, Richard, but may I ask a favour?’

‘Ah! Negotiating already,’ Richard said, impressed by such an unexpected streak of self–interest.

‘No, I… Well. It’s just that a friend did me a favour, driving up from London with me today, and we were running lines in the car – and I wondered if you’d let him audition as well.’

Richard knew his surprise must be plain. It was irregular, of course, but he knew that such moments could be serendipitous – and anyway they were all friends here, there was no one left to offend or keep waiting. In any case, they already had their Gaveston, and Richard could afford a few minutes now to keep him sweet. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘All right.’

And then Colin, who was sitting there facing the stairwell across the room – Colin slowly stood from his chair, staring dumbstruck.

And Richard turned in his seat, somehow already knowing who he’d see.

Bradley James. It was Bradley James emerging from behind the banisters, looking a bit hapless, true, but his jaw was set with Arthur’s determination. ‘Hello, Richard,’ he said into the silence as he walked closer.

‘It’s so very good to see you, Bradley.’

‘I hope you don’t mind –’

‘No, no, of course not.’

But Bradley was rubbing his hands together nervously, and casting a worry–freighted glance at Colin. Richard turned back around as Bradley joined their circle, and found Rupert looking wryly pleased; Rupert shook Bradley’s hand, and they nodded at each other. Apparently all was fair in love and auditions – at least for this chivalrous pair.

And then of course Richard looked at Colin, who was still standing there dumbstruck, but also galvanised. His arms were fixed tight down at his sides, almost as if he might topple over at any moment, except for the fact that he was _charged_ with pent–up energy.

‘I was always meaning to do this,’ Bradley was continuing, ‘but I wasn’t brave enough to tell you before.’

‘That’s perfectly all right, my dear,’ Richard offered, hoping to sooth the situation through.

‘Actually, poor Rupert’s been my Sir William,’ Bradley blurted.

‘I’m sorry…?’ Richard asked, suspecting that he should understand the reference.

‘He did me a favour, claiming an audition on my behalf, you see –’

‘Mate,’ Rupert cut in, ‘don’t thank me. All I did was set the bar that much higher.’

Bradley laughed, and rubbed his hands together while he muttered a rueful complaint: ‘Times like this, you know who your friends are…’

Well, no doubt the whole story would come clear in time. No doubt it would all have to be retold for Colin’s benefit, at any rate, for he was still standing there dazed. Richard cleared his throat, hoping Colin might reawaken soon and work with Bradley as generously as he had with all the others. Rupert went to fetch another chair from the stacks along the wall, and then set it beside Richard’s; sat down to watch as if augmenting their audience. ‘Now, Bradley,’ Richard finally began, ‘we’ve been working with Gaveston’s opening speech, if that’s all right –’

Colin suddenly stirred; fumbled for the prop letter where Rupert had left it on the other chair; held it out to Bradley in both hands, with bright–eyed hope.

Bradley smiled gently at his friend, and took it, but then he turned to Richard and announced, ‘I’ll do a bit for you, to prove I know the lines.’

‘All right,’ said Richard, trying not to frown. How did Bradley expect to make an impression that way?

He was good, though. ‘ _The sight of London to my exiled eyes_ | _is as Elysium to a new–come soul –_ | _not that I love the city or the men,_ | _but that it harbours him I hold so dear,_ | _the king, upon whose bosom let me die_ | _and with the world be still at enmity._ ’ Bradley delivered the lines in the most understated way, but there was no doubt of the deep emotion that lay behind every phrase – and certainly no prissy schoolboy notion that _to die_ meant _to swoon_. A sensually–lidded memory–anticipation of pleasure that rippled through his whole body conveyed the truth, before transforming into a careless dismissal of all else but Edward.

‘That was actually rather good,’ Richard offered, ‘especially if you really are just proving you know the lines.’ Colin nodded enthusiastically from where he still stood beyond Bradley’s shoulder. Richard was already assimilating the surprise, though; it was hardly news to anyone at this point that he appreciated a minimalist approach in acting.

‘Thanks,’ said Bradley. ‘But I know Rupert totally nailed that speech already –’ he shot Rupert a glare only half in jest – ‘so I was wondering if I could do something different?’

‘Well.’ Again, it wasn’t really done, but they’d come this far already. They might as well continue. ‘What did you have in mind?’

‘The scene where they first meet again? Colin, if you wouldn’t mind…?’

A dazed shake of his head from Colin, and he began with a stammer, not waiting for Richard to agree or disagree, but focussed only on Bradley – even for his first lines, which should have been spoken to Edward’s brother Edmund, Earl of Kent. ‘ _Brother, display my ensigns in the field;_ | _I’ll either die or live with Gaveston._ ’

Bradley started forward, though he barely had to take a pace. ‘ _I can no longer keep me from my lord._ ’ He knelt, and took Colin’s hand in both of his, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

But Colin raised him up. ‘ _What, Gaveston, welcome! Kiss not my hand;_ | _embrace me, Gaveston, as I do thee._ ’ They each gave themselves to an enveloping hug, before Colin stepped back again, lifting a hand to fondly smooth Bradley’s hair, before whimsically continuing, ‘ _Why shouldst thou kneel? Knowest thou not who I am?_ | _Thy friend, thy self, another Gaveston._ | _Not Hylas was more mourned of Hercules_ | _than thou hast been of me since thy exile._ ’

‘ _And since I went from hence, no soul in hell_ | _hath felt more torment than poor Gaveston._ ’

The two of them were completely wrapped up in each other, whether touching or not; the rest of the world revolved about them, and they remained unaware of it.

Richard sighed, and turned to consider Rupert sitting beside him. Rupert, who looked back at him with wry humour. ‘I am so sorry, my friend,’ Richard offered. ‘It seems the decision has been made for us.’

‘That’s all right. It was always meant to turn out like this. We must seem a bit mad to you!’ he observed with a chuckle. ‘But Bradley was adamant he needed a… a shield.’

‘You were very good.’

‘Thank you,’ Rupert said simply. ‘I confess, I got into it more than I thought I would. Though who wouldn’t want to play against Colin in such a role?’

‘Exactly.’ Richard sighed. ‘I wish it weren’t too late to ask you to read for Mortimer… Or – No, Kent! I’m really still in need of a Kent. I realise it’s a lesser role, but you’d be perfect as Kent. Edward Longshanks’ other son.’

Rupert smile was gentle and poignant. ‘Thank you, Richard, but it’s probably better for everyone if I make myself scarce.’

He nodded, not quite understanding all the dynamics of what was happening, but knowing when to accept the inevitable. ‘Are you two driving back tonight?’

‘That was the idea.’

‘Stay and have an early dinner with us first. It’s Bradley’s birthday, isn’t it? Unless I’m misremembering. In any case, we’d better offer him a celebration – unless he has other plans?’

‘It is his birthday, but he didn’t mention any plans. Well, I think _these_ were his plans.’ Rupert sighed, and turned back to watch Colin and Bradley talking together with their heads bent over the script, already animatedly fleshing out their performances. ‘That would be fine. I’m sure Bradley would love to stay.’

‘That’s good, then.’ And Richard sat there watching the two young men, utterly involved in each other whether in character or not.

And it was obvious. It was so very obvious now. Bradley James. Of course it was Bradley, whom Colin desired. And again, Richard wondered why on earth Colin assumed the answer would be _no_.

# Rehearsals

  


#### October 2011

‘I had an idea,’ Richard announced to his two companions as they ate lunch on what would be the third day of the main rehearsals. ‘Well, I am _revisiting_ an idea.’

‘What’s that?’ asked Colin with that delightfully open expression of his, while Bradley hummed a query despite his mouthful of food.

Their days were already developing a structure. Richard would rise early, and make tea and toast as quietly as possible so as not to disturb Bradley – who was for now sleeping on the foldout sofa in the main room of the serviced apartment that Richard was sharing with Colin. Richard would shower and dress, and head out to pursue one or more of the myriad concerns that bedevilled a director, or he’d run errands, or maybe _just maybe_ snatch a quiet hour or two to himself. Then he’d meet the two young men for lunch, back at the apartment or at a pub or cafe, after which they’d head for the rehearsal space, and work through into the evening with various combinations of the other company and creatives.

It was a satisfying time, purposeful and yet relaxed. They were still in the blithely confident frame of mind that often accompanied this period in a theatre project. The early days and initial uncertainties had passed, the company had assembled and their performances were shaping and being shaped by the design of the set, lighting and sound. In this particular case, they had lost a lead but seemed certain that they’d emerge stronger than ever; everyone but for Bradley himself had complete faith in his abilities, and he was so utterly determined to not let anyone down. These days were heady stuff, full of ideas and possibilities coalescing into the extraordinary. Of course such a state of mind never actually survived through to opening night, but Richard had learned to enjoy it while he may.

Ever since _Merlin_ wrapped, Colin had been particularly engaged with the production, and was so involved in all Richard’s dealings that Richard might as well have been conducting a master class in directing. Which, to be honest, he loved doing, and there was no knowledge, no experience, no thoughts he wouldn’t share with – well, with anyone, but it gave him particular joy to be passing on his skills to someone he admired and cared about so greatly.

Bradley was… Bradley was invested in his role, and in his love for Colin, his friendship with Richard, and he seemed determined to squeeze every possible drop of enjoyment from combining these three things together. Wherever Richard was, from noon till late, Colin was there also, and Bradley was rarely far behind. Richard was perfectly happy with that situation, as well. And if Bradley’s slumbering presence in their apartment didn’t inhibit Colin from padding barefoot into Richard’s bedroom every other night, then the only thing Richard might complain about was over–exertion, and he was a long way off that yet. In fact, Colin must be due to visit him again that very night, and –

‘Richard? What’s your idea?’

He was comically blank for a moment, and he really didn’t mind when Bradley snorted a laugh and Colin grinned. It all came back to him, of course, just as soon as he could turn aside from the image of Colin cool and pale and lithe in his lap, his fingers and palm holding them crushed hot together as if they might meld into one.

Another chuckle from Bradley finally prompted him to observe, ‘You’ve both settled into these roles so very quickly…’

‘Preparation,’ Colin suggested, glancing at Bradley for his agreement, and nodding when he found it. ‘We’ve both been preparing for this. Reading, researching, learning lines, thinking about it all…’

‘Well,’ Bradley amended with scrupulous honesty, ‘I’ve been learning lines.’

Colin cast him a droll look. ‘Anyway. We want to do you proud, Richard.’

‘Of course you will,’ Richard responded, lightly dismissing the absurd notion that anything else was even possible. ‘But what I was going to suggest, as we still have more than a month before the play opens, was that… Well. As Colin knows, one of my early ideas was that the two leads might alternate the roles each night, or each week. After our first Gaveston’s desertion, I didn’t think we’d have time enough to prepare, but you’re both so far ahead already…’

‘Oh!’ said Colin. ‘Of course! I’d forgotten, what with all the drama, but that would be awesome!’ Then he looked across at Bradley, and Richard saw his face fall. Bradley was shaking his head. ‘You’d rather not, Bradley?’

Richard offered, ‘If I didn’t have complete faith in you, I wouldn’t suggest it.’

After a moment, Bradley slowly said, ‘I really had my heart set on playing Gaveston.’

‘All right,’ Richard and Colin said, with an easy acceptance that nevertheless held a querying tone.

‘Anyway,’ Bradley eventually continued. ‘I’ve had enough of playing royalty, yeah? For now, at least.’

‘Ah,’ Richard said, while Colin nodded his understanding.

‘I’ll do it if you really want me to, Richard, or I’ll try – but to be honest I’d rather just concentrate on playing against expectations.’

‘Of course, my dear.’

‘That’s already shaking things up enough, maybe,’ Bradley offered.

‘Yes, of course it is.’ Richard reached to reassuringly pat Bradley’s hand. ‘Well, if we’re not doing that, then there is a tradition that the actor playing Gaveston doubles as Lightborn…’

Bradley contemplated Colin for long sober moments. Finally he commented to Richard, without shifting his gaze, ‘You want me to kill him as well as kiss him?’

‘Only if that’s agreeable, my dear.’

‘All right,’ Bradley said at last. ‘All right, _that_ I can do for you.’

‘Thank you,’ Richard said quite sincerely.

‘Yeah, thanks, mate,’ Colin added rather dryly.

‘Not a problem.’

‘You’ll be brilliant, of course,’ Richard declared. ‘You’ll both be so very brilliant. Like two comets streaming across the sky at once, magnificent and dangerous and full of portent…’

The two young men stared at him for a heartbeat – until Bradley guffawed, and Colin broke into giggles, and of course Richard couldn’t help laughing, too, and lunch ended with everyone in really the most splendid mood.

♦

Bradley was indeed brilliant, once he shook off his initial uncertainties and gave himself over to Gaveston’s cocksure self. He prowled around Colin’s Edward, who forever turned to face him, to follow him with his attention, his awareness… Nothing else existed, and no matter how sympathetic one found the lovers, who could blame the queen and the nobles for chafing at the king’s never–ending distraction, the king’s neglect of them?

Richard toyed with the notion for a while of always having Gaveston on the stage whenever Edward was on, or just loitering by an entrance, even if his presence defied logic. The other characters could just ignore him, but it would signal so clearly that Edward could never forget him, could never make a decision that didn’t take his love into account. He gave up on the idea after a while, fearing it would only cause confusion for the audience, but when he wistfully spoke of it to Colin late one evening over a cup of tea, the younger man immediately began considering more workable solutions: ‘They exchange miniatures of themselves, don’t they? That they wear on chains?’

‘You’ve seen the Ian McKellen film, then?’

Colin laughed. ‘Yes, but it’s in the script. I’d already read the script. So, whenever Gaveston isn’t there, Edward holds this image of Gaveston, toys with it, cos he just can’t let even the thought of him go.’

‘Yes…’

‘Which is only logical. But we need to think of something different from the film, don’t we? Instead of, or as well?’

‘If we can…’

‘How about some other keepsake as well, like a strip of cloth torn from their clothing, or a ribbon, which they tie to the miniatures?’

‘Yes,’ Richard said, pondering. ‘I can see that working…’

‘It’s like they’re rending their garments in grief, you know?’

‘Perfect!’ Richard cried, and jotted the solution down in his production diary, with a note to raise this with Costume.

‘If you think Costume will let us get away with destroying things every night…’

Richard smiled at him. ‘The truth is that any creative worth their salt likes to be challenged. I’m sure they can find a way to make it work.’

‘Oh, OK,’ said Colin. ‘Cool. And perhaps the miniature is Edward’s only ornament, other than his crown. I mean, we have him dressing quite simply, don’t we?’

‘I’ll have to give you co–director credits at this rate.’

‘Silly man,’ Colin murmured with a soft pleased smile.

So, his leads were brilliant, of course, and the only problem the cast overall were struggling with was the poetry of the language. After a late afternoon tea break on the fifth day, Richard gathered everyone around in a circle of chairs. ‘I know it’s unfashionable of me to ask you to deliver the poetry; I’m sure it’s not what has been taught in drama school these past few decades. Maybe I’m being frightfully old–fashioned – or maybe I’m being avant–garde, and the pendulum is starting to swing back the other way.’

There was some amusement at his expense over this, which he genially shared.

‘The thing with Marlowe is that he writes with such a deceptive simplicity, it is almost purity. But that’s no reason to _speak_ the lines. The poetry is there; his words are steeped in it. Gaveston seduces with language, and Edward’s heart beats with Gaveston’s name – the entire play _resounds_ with Gaveston’s name!’

‘How d’you want us to handle it, then?’ asked his Mortimer.

Richard left a thoughtful pause to see if anyone else had suggestions to make.

Bradley spoke up. ‘I was thinking… I mean, this is probably completely beside the point.’

‘No, please go on.’

‘I was thinking… they’d never _speak_ an opera, would they? They’d always sing it. Always. So why do we try speaking the poetry in a play? There’s no real difference, is there?’ Everyone was listening intently, which was wonderful, although unfortunately this didn’t seem to make Bradley feel any more confident. He was brave enough to persist, however: ‘Then I thought, well, the characters in an opera don’t _know_ they’re singing, do they? I mean, _do_ they? Cos I’ve never been. But maybe that’s what we need to do. Forget that we’re delivering poetry, and just… um, deliver it.’

He’d finished lamely, but Richard thanked him with particular warmth. ‘That is _exactly_ to the point, Bradley.’ Richard returned to his Mortimer, and nodded encouragingly. ‘What would you say is Mortimer’s most poetic and revealing line? From the scene we were working on earlier today?’

Mortimer shrugged, but answered readily enough, ‘ _Why should you love him whom the world hates so?_ ’

‘Exactly. An elegantly simple line, words all one syllable – and yet it isn’t prose. Say it again, just as lightly and cleanly as you can. I think that… all we need do for now is get _ourselves_ out of the way of the poetry. The rest we can work on later.’

Mortimer obliged, and it worked, and there was that feeling of a sea change in the production, the sense of progress that just couldn’t be forced or faked.

‘Shall we run through that scene again, then? And we’ll do it lightly, as if we’re all tiptoeing through the air, and our words are falling one by one like drops of the gentlest spring rain…’

‘Oh Richard _god_ I love you,’ declared Colin.

And everybody guffawed in hearty delight.

♦

Colin was completely energised. Richard wasn’t sure if it was due to enjoyment of the play itself, or the role, or the freedom of being away from both his London base and his Cardiff work, or the happiness of spending so much time again with Bradley – but Colin was _on_ in every sense. He initiated sex with Richard every other night, and he kept to that schedule strictly, as if trying to pace himself – or pace Richard, perhaps. If Colin had been with a younger man, of course – as he should be – Richard was sure Colin would have thrown self–restraint to the winds long before now. As it was… he kept it within reasonable limits. But only just.

It was an odd–numbered date, so Richard was expecting Colin that night, and he was only lightly dozing as he waited with the bedside lamp still on. The door opening woke him up, despite the fact the hinges were virtually silent. Colin ghosted in, a smile already growing as he saw Richard looking back at him – but then he paused mid–step as they both heard Bradley shifting about on the sofa bed. After a moment, though, Bradley seemed to settle again, and his deep breaths, just the right side of snoring, returned to their slow even rhythm.

‘All this creeping about,’ Richard commented as Colin tiptoed over to him, ‘will be for naught. We can’t keep doing this for days or weeks, and expect him not to notice. He’s not stupid, you know.’

‘I know!’ Colin agreed bright–eyed, as he carefully clambered over Richard and onto the other side of the bed. ‘Didn’t you just love him for that stuff about opera today?’

‘Yes,’ said Richard thoughtfully. ‘Yes, I did.’ Though he noted Colin’s choice of verb. ‘I was grateful. Obviously I was failing to convey something vital, and he managed it in a moment.’

‘He was awesome… Oh, there’s no one _alive_ quite like Bradley. I just love the way he thinks!’

Richard huffed a little, which he thought might pass as laughing under his breath, and he turned towards the younger man, reaching a hand as if to gently fend him off. ‘D’you know, if you’d rather not –’ But then Richard touched Colin; felt the warmth radiating from him even before his fingertips quite made contact. ‘You’re burning up!’

‘I am!’

‘Are you not well?’ Richard raised himself up on an elbow to better survey him – but he had to admit to himself that Colin merely appeared… _on_.

‘Nothing that a bit o’ lovin’ won’t cure,’ Colin said roughly. Then he seemed to be trying to restrain an impulse, or find measured words, but within a heartbeat he was bursting out, ‘ _God_ , Richard, I have to have you. By which I mean, you have to have me.’ He thrust a hand out towards Richard, whom he hadn’t yet touched. It contained a fistful of loose condom packets and a tube of lube. ‘ _Please._ ’

‘Ah,’ was all Richard managed in response. They hadn’t yet done such a thing despite all their months together – and some parts of Richard quailed even while other parts stirred hungrily.

‘I really need this tonight, Richard.’

‘Well, if – I mean, what do you –’

‘Just like we usually do. Except I’ll be –’ Colin’s eyes drifted shut for a moment. ‘I’ll be fucking myself down onto you. All you have to do is sit there.’

Which stung, rather, even now. ‘I should think I’ll be able to manage a little more than just sitting there.’

‘Good.’ And Colin was rising up, gathering the pillows to put behind Richard’s back – and he’d been rational, self–aware, humorous, but now he grew serious and urgent. He made short shrift of his own t–shirt and boxers, and then Richard’s pyjamas were wrestled off him with far less care than usual. To his own surprise, Richard found himself responding to the roughness, though he’d always prided himself on being entirely civil in bed, forever considerate and kind… But that wasn’t required tonight, apparently.

Colin was straddling his hips before Richard was even half–hard, but that was all right, because Colin curled up close and his mouth captured Richard’s in a surging kiss, a turbulent kiss, his hands reaching down to tug expertly at Richard’s cock and balls, while Richard’s hands slid down Colin’s long back until at last they were shaping themselves firmly around Colin’s narrow rear, and this time Richard let his fingers dig in a little, and Colin squirmed, and moaned into their kiss, and really Colin was just the most utterly compelling lover any man could ever have had – and tonight he was burning up, he was on fire… Richard groaned, and tightened his arms, his hands, his fingertips pushing against that hot damp skin…

Richard was so used to Colin feeling cool to his touch, his skin cool and pale in the desaturated blue of moonlight, and his hands and feet in particular always needing to be warmed up… Richard had fretted over it often enough, wondering aloud – much to Colin’s annoyance – about whether he was taking care of himself, getting the right nutrients, he’d heard that maybe Colin would be missing out on potassium or some such thing, and couldn’t he at least eat fish, and didn’t he feel the cold…? But of course Colin was healthy and fit, perhaps the healthiest person Richard knew, and maybe he wore an extra layer of clothing than most other people at any given time, but then Richard did, too.

He was so used to Colin feeling cool, that it was quite a shocking assault on Richard’s senses to have him curled up here in his arms radiating the kind of heat that might power all of Manchester. ‘Colin…’ he murmured, awestruck.

‘ _Please,_ Richard. I need – I  _need_ this –’ His eyes dark and wild and deep.

‘I know – I know, my darling.’

‘Here. Let me.’ Colin shifting back a little, reaching for a condom. And Richard had been about to demur, thinking he couldn’t possibly have ramped up already – but he had, of course he had, with this wicked creature in his arms… Richard was so very focussed on Colin, that he hardly noticed the condom being rolled onto his cock, but he certainly noticed when Colin spread lube over two of his own fingers, and reached down between his thighs to prepare himself… Richard’s breath snagged, and he let his fingers push down further behind until he was touching Colin’s fingers as they thrust in and out, he was rubbing at the sensitive skin there, feeling the stretch and pull as Colin readied himself – and Colin’s breath was catching in little yelps, not of pain but of eagerness, of deep–seated need. For long moments they stayed there, Colin curled up so far that his head was tucked in against Richard’s collarbone.

But then at last Colin groaned, and pushed upright, swayed rather – ‘Colin, are you all right?’

‘Oh Richard _god damn_ Richard…’ And Colin was lining himself up, sinking down and down, and Richard was being swallowed alive by heat and pressure, and it was hell and heaven all in one – he sat up, brought his knees up, too, so he could cradle this precious wicked gorgeous creature who swayed again and moaned gut–deep so that it vibrated through him and through where Richard pierced him.

Colin’s sweet arse and tender thighs pressed heavy down against Richard now – and suddenly he arched back with a low cry – but Richard had him, his arm wrapped tight around Colin’s waist, and Colin a glorious long curve, his legs clutching Richard either side. ‘You’re beautiful,’ Richard was muttering. ‘You’re as beautiful and intense – and dangerous and _necessary_ as fire.’

‘oh god’ Colin muttered – and he began moving at last – but not so that Richard was thrusting. Colin tilted and rolled his hips, hardly shifting at all really, certainly not up or down, but around – a sinuous tilt and a roll, with a twist in the middle, like a figure eight, like an infinity symbol. ‘oh god oh god oh god _oh god_ ’

And Richard clung on, thinking only of this young man, that he should have what he most needed, no matter what it took, no matter the cost – though who was he fooling, this was incredible, this was – he tried not to think about how good this was, because Richard’s task was to provide a hard cock to grind down upon, strong arms to hold him up, love enough to be patient –

But like anyone with a natural instinct for character, Colin knew exactly how far he could push, how much he could ask. Soon he raggedly cried, ‘ _Richard!_ ’

‘Yes my darling, yes tell me –’

‘Do it. Finish it.’

‘Yes, yes, of course.’ And after all these months, he knew exactly how, his free hand knew just how to shape itself to that scorchingly hard cock, how to tug up and then push down, his thumbpad sweeping down across Colin’s balls which had tightened up ready to –

The seed fountained out of him, and Colin arched back further, both arms wide – and Richard went with him, found a decades–old limberness and followed him down, lay over this young man still arched back over Richard’s encompassing arm, Colin’s legs hooking around his waist now – and Richard thrust into him while yet Colin trembled and quaked with his own pleasure, thrust vigorously into him until he couldn’t resist any longer, and the pleasure destroyed him as well.

♦

They dozed for a while after, drifting away from the world and back again, but neither quite seemed comfortable, neither seemed ready to settle.

‘Are you all right?’ Colin eventually asked in the small hours. The bedside lamp was still on, and Colin was still there, but they were no longer quite so dazed.

‘Yes. Oh yes, I’m fine. How are you?’

‘I’m fine,’ Colin replied with a happy smile. ‘Thank you for –’

‘Oh heavens! No, thank _you_.’

The smile became a grin, and Colin snuggled in at Richard’s side. ‘God, I don’t want to go. I suppose I’d better go –’

‘No, why don’t you stay?’

The glint of an eye as Colin glanced up at him. ‘What, and then I creep back over there when you get up in the morning, and we hope that Bradley’s not awake yet?’

Richard gave a half–shrug that wouldn’t disrupt Colin’s embrace. ‘Stay. Just – stay.’

‘But if Bradley –’

‘Would _you_ mind if he knew?’ Richard asked.

‘No. Would you?’

‘It does occur to me that he should have your bed, if he’s going to be staying here. It can’t be very comfortable, that sofa. Those contraptions never are.’

Colin looked surprised. ‘He should sleep with me?’

Richard rolled his eyes. ‘ _You_ should sleep with _me_ , and _he_ should have a proper bed.’

‘Oh!’ Colin was stunned and confused, and scrambling. ‘Richard, god… you _want_ me to sleep with you… _every_ night… and you don’t mind Bradley knowing…?’

‘I realise that’s a lot to take in all at once,’ Richard dryly remarked.

‘That is a lot, yes!’ Nevertheless, Colin had already caught up, and was grinning at him. ‘I’d love to. Thank you!’

Richard shook his head, and smiled ruefully to himself. God, what had he done? He felt more clearheaded and _awake_ than he had for years, but Colin was settling in happily beside him, so Richard at last turned out the lamp, and shifted into his regular sleeping posture. Heavens only knew how long it would be before he –

♦

He woke late the next morning. So late that Colin and Bradley were already moving about the kitchen, making themselves breakfast, nattering back and forth in low voices. Richard got up, but paused just by the doorway when he realised the topic of conversation. Perhaps Colin had forgotten and Bradley didn’t realise that for once they still had his company.

‘He says you should have my bed,’ Colin was announcing conversationally.

‘He _wants_ us to sleep together?’

‘Idiot! No… I’ll bunk with him. You have a proper bed. Everybody’s happy.’

Richard peered out to see that Bradley had narrowed his eyes. ‘Everyone?’

And Colin replied quite simply, with the most delightfully contented smile curving that beautiful mouth. ‘Yes. _Everyone_.’

♦

Richard wanted to stage the play with a minimum of furniture and furnishings, and only the kind of props that a character might naturally carry about. The one item they couldn’t do without was Edward’s throne, which he deliberately provocatively shared with Gaveston. So far, though, Richard and the set designer hadn’t come up with anything that worked in either practical or dramatic terms. But on the first day that Richard and the company were able to have the Royal Exchange Theatre to themselves for a walk–through, the designer turned up with a low square stool, seat sumptuously padded with red velvet, and pale gold baroque arms curving out wide to each side. The front and back were both open, so Colin and Bradley could sit on it from either direction – and when they sat on it together, they quite naturally arranged themselves as if it were a love seat.

‘Perfect!’ cried Richard, as his Edward and Gaveston sat there giggling like two naughty schoolboys, already perfectly at home.

Some of the rest of the cast were less comfortable in the theatre space, however. They wandered across the stage, tried the entrances, all the while looking about them at the rows and tiers of seats.

‘It’s larger than I’d imagined,’ said his Archbishop of Canterbury. ‘It’s more… open.’

‘I was somehow expecting it to be… a little more intimate,’ his Kent agreed.

‘We’ll have plenty of time to get used to it,’ Richard assured them. But it seemed that some of them were feeling rather exposed. ‘The lighting will be a presence all its own,’ Richard continued. ‘We’re going to watch a preview of the lighting design later today; I’ve asked Colin to run through a scene for the purposes. I think you’ll find you can inhabit the light.’

‘But you’re only using images on scrims for the battle scenes…?’ Mortimer confirmed.

‘That’s right.’ He’d been about to remind them that all the emphasis would be on the lighting and the acting, but obviously now wasn’t the time. Richard sat down in one of the front row seats, but let people wander where they wanted while he spoke. ‘We’ve already talked about how the story spans twenty years, from Edward’s father’s death to his own, even though the scenes run on, one after the other, almost continuously. The play’s quite modern in that regard. I’ve asked you to convey the time passing from scene to scene through your delivery, your stance and your attitude.’

‘Aye,’ agreed his stout Mortimer, apparently beginning to find his feet again.

‘The lighting will support you. It’s really rather striking. We’re using the seasons to help tell the story, from the hopeful spring with Edward’s invitation, to a rich summer with the lovers acknowledged whether together or apart, changing to autumn with Gaveston’s death, and finally winter with Edward’s death. Then of course comes spring again as our young Edward defies Isabella and Mortimer, and takes the throne.’

The company were all standing there scattered about the stage area watching him now, apparently sold – on the lighting design, at least.

‘That’s a treat for later, though,’ Richard finished gently. ‘Now, would anyone care to take the opportunity to walk through a scene or two? Just to get a feel for the space?’

‘I will!’ cried the ever–reliable Bradley. ‘Let’s start at the beginning, cos I’ve finally thought of a way I can outdo Rupert with that damned opening speech.’

Richard chuckled, while his three poor men gathered for the first scene, and Colin grabbed an abandoned flier for another play to use instead of the letter.

‘Oh,’ Bradley continued, ‘I thought of a metaphor for you, Richard, for how lightly we’re to say our lines. You said drops of spring rain, but I’ve remembered something better.’

‘What’s that, my dear?’

Bradley grinned, quite irrepressible. ‘It was from an old Foster’s ad. You know the Australian beer? This rough old bloke is waxing lyrical after having a pint. He says, _It’s like an angel weeping on your tongue…_ ’

Richard laughed in delight. ‘That’s utterly marvellous. Thank you.’

# Performance

  


#### November 2011

They received some rather excellent reviews after press night, and the entire five week run had already sold out. Richard was pleased to find that the _Merlin_ fans had kept the faith with their two young heroes; there was a supportive contingent of them almost every night and every matinee.

Each performance was received with suitable enthusiasm; well, it was a tragedy, so the audience were hardly dancing in the aisles at the conclusion, but at least justice was seen to be done, and Edward’s son was proved stalwart and true once he took on his rightful authority. It was a happy enough circumstance for England; history vouchsafed that.

And the show ended with Edward and Gaveston–Lightborn entering from either side and meeting on the stage once more, and embracing, before slow–dancing to Cole Porter’s _Night and Day_ , a choice made as homage to Derek Jarman. The audience were spellbound by this notion of love reunited in the next life; and once they’d begun processing the tragedy and were starting to smile again, then Edward would kiss Gaveston one last time; Colin would step back grinning happily, and then he and Bradley would take their bows, still holding hands, before the rest of the company joined them; Richard’s two leads quite naturally joined the applause as everyone else took their bows.

As often as not there was a standing ovation. Richard was well satisfied.

But he was all too aware that despite this small triumph in their professional lives, his two leads were rather less content personally. It was obvious, to anyone who really knew them, that Colin and Bradley wanted each other, that they _wanted loved craved_ each other – but even as he was just starting to realise how deep it went, Richard had stupidly put himself in the way by suggesting Colin share his bed every night. He’d known better in July, and couldn’t begin to explain to himself this lapse of wisdom in October…

He left them to it, assuming they’d sort it out in their own time. Richard had seen it happen often enough before; a love like this was too strong not to prevail. And, after all, Colin still knew that he and Richard weren’t a committed monogamous couple even now.

Richard waited; expecting every day that Colin would find an opportunity to take him aside, to solemnly explain that he couldn’t go on like this, that he was sorry, but… And of course Richard would bless him and let him go. Of course. Colin was already free.

But Colin never asked.

So they shared a bed, Colin and Richard, and they still had sex every other night, and it was still amazing. In fact, Colin seemed as happy as ever with Richard. But with Bradley, Colin grew sadder, quieter. Both of them did, their faces becoming drawn. And why wouldn’t they, _why wouldn’t they_ do something about it? Surely Colin no longer thought that Bradley was straight – or at least he must see that Bradley was more than ready and willing to cross that boundary even if it were only for Colin’s sake. Surely Colin realised he’d made no promise to Richard that he’d be breaking. It made no sense at all.

‘Colin,’ Richard murmured over lunch one day at the apartment. A rather subdued Bradley had left already, citing some vague plans, and promising he’d meet them at the theatre later that afternoon. ‘Colin, please.’

‘Mmm…?’ Colin looked at him fondly, openly, but with a hint of wariness.

‘Please, my dear friend. There is something I want to say.’

‘No –’

Richard continued smoothly, ‘It’s about time that something was said.’

‘No, don’t. Don’t, Richard.’

‘Why not?’ he burst out in frustration.

‘Things are fine the way they are.’

‘They most certainly are not!’

Colin sighed, and his gaze slid away.

‘You won’t even talk about it?’ Richard persisted. ‘I think you should be _doing_ something about it, but you won’t even _discuss_ it?’

‘Promise me you won’t try to change anything, Richard,’ Colin earnestly demanded. ‘At least, not until the play’s finished.’

He took a moment to digest this request. ‘Is that some kind of actorly superstition?’

‘Maybe. Or maybe I’m just being practical. Right now we’re in balance. There’s an equilibrium. If it all turns bad, then it’s going to be hell to see out the run.’

Richard nodded warily, though he remained unconvinced of the wisdom of such an approach. Did Colin doubt that he’d be happy with Bradley? Or that Bradley would be happy with him? Richard could hardly credit it – but then Richard had been young and stupid once, he remembered that well enough. And perhaps love was never as straightforward when observed from the inside…

‘Hey, Richard,’ Colin said softly, tapping the back of his hand to regain his attention.

‘Yes?’

‘ _Let me explain about the theatre business. The natural condition is one of insurmountable obstacles on the road to imminent disaster. But **s** trangely enough, it all turns out well._’

Richard knew his line. ‘ _How does it?_ ’

 **‘** _I don’t know,_ ’ Colin concluded with a grin. ‘ _It’s a mystery._ ’

# ‘So thou wouldst smile…’ 

  


#### December 2011

They all slept in late on the morning after closing night, and even then the two young men needed plenty of coffee, paracetamol and water before they started looking lively again. ‘Why did you say we should stay on, Richard?’ Bradley asked after a while, sitting at the kitchen table, and propping up his heavy head with both hands. ‘Did you _want_ to be nursing us…?’

‘Just one extra night, I thought…’

‘Yes,’ Colin agreed, ‘but aren’t we all ready to leave Manchester behind?’

‘Has it been so awful?’

‘You know it hasn’t. I’m always happy to stay in a new place, and explore it. But then, I’m always happy to get back home again, too.’

‘I know,’ said Richard. ‘I understand.’

They weren’t really in any state to persist, so Richard pottered about making sandwiches, while Colin and Bradley talked desultorily with each other across the table, and drank more coffee. The food put a gleam in their eyes when Richard set it before them. ‘Thanks, Richard,’ they both said politely, before tucking in.

A few minutes later, Colin finally started twigging to what might be happening when he looked up and saw Richard wheeling his packed suitcase out into the small hallway. Confusion fell through that lovely face. And then hurt.

Richard left the case where it stood, and walked steadily back to the table. Quietly addressed them both: ‘The play is done, but will you still take my direction?’

Bradley nodded once, still dazed, but Colin was realising… and not looking best pleased.

‘Then, Colin: kiss him. Kiss Bradley. Kiss your dearest friend.’

‘What d’you…’

‘It’s obvious you two should be together. I am taking myself out of the way. You two are going to stay here for tonight, for however long you need, to remake the world the way it should be.’

‘No…’

‘Come now, Colin. You know what’s right. Let me be sure of you both, and then I’ll leave.’

‘I’m not going to… to kiss another man in front of _you_. And not behind your back, either!’ Colin threw him a distraught look. ‘Richard, you know I love you.’ Then, chagrined, he added, ‘Too. I love you, too.’

Bradley was nervous, so vulnerable, gaze flicking from one to the other of them, sitting there silently with his hands clutching at his own thighs.

Richard responded, ‘I’m your friend, Colin, and I want what’s best for you. I never expected you to be faithful, and I certainly never wanted you to let go by the chance for a _real_ love.’

‘Oh Richard, for god’s sake…’

‘I know you love me, so do as I ask. Because I love you as well, and this is what I want for you.’

‘Oh god…’

But at last at last Colin was standing up and drawing near to Bradley – who rose to meet him, shaking with nerves with need – and Colin took Bradley’s gorgeous face in both hands, and pressed a loving kiss to his mouth. And then Bradley was wrapping strong trembling arms around Colin’s waist, and gathering him in tight, and they were kissing, kissing passionately, at last as themselves _as themselves_!

Richard watched for a moment, to be sure _to be certain_ that all was now as it should be. Then he turned away – it was a wrench, and it hurt – he was surprised by just how much it hurt – but he turned and walked away.

‘ _Richard…_ ’ Colin gasped – but Richard only took the handle of his suitcase, and began wheeling it towards the door – ‘ _Richard!_ ’ came a broken cry.

‘Richard,’ said Bradley, in a rough yet certain tone. ‘You’d better stay.’

He looked around at such a notion from such a quarter.

‘Colin –’Bradley continued, with one arm still tight around Colin’s waist – ‘Colin loves you. I always knew that much. But I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here. You never know, I may need further direction. So you’d better stay.’

‘Richard, _please_ ,’ Colin begged.

And he took a moment. He forced himself to take a moment, to consider how very deeply he might regret this. But then Richard let go of his case, and walked back down to where the two young men awaited him. Colin rushed into his arms, and held on, and Bradley held onto to Colin, and they all just _clung_.

♦

How did such situations evolve? His unwillingness to leave, and their refusal to let him go. Their overwhelming relief to finally be loving each other, and all their accumulated passion of the past months… For an hour or so, Richard sat in the armchair that had become his, while Colin and Bradley sat wrapped up together on the sofa; the three of them were chatting away together as endlessly and comfortably as they’d ever done, but the two young men were also kissing and cuddling as if they just couldn’t help themselves – and indeed why should they? This was the natural result of the months they’d spent in Manchester, of the years since they’d first met in Cardiff, and it had been delayed for far too long.

Yes, they had certainly waited long enough. Which perhaps explained why at some point the snuggling segued into something more heated, and before any of them had quite realised what was happening, the two young men had drifted past the prologue and were engaged in act one of a drama where the setting for act two was a bed.

The reality seemed to occur to them all at once. Richard was mortified to find that he wasn’t protesting; he was watching avidly. Bradley was already in that place where the rest of the world had fallen away, but his face suffused red when he realised that actually a remnant of the world remained; and not just any old remnant, but Colin’s former lover. As for Colin himself, when a glance at Richard was enough to reassure him that Richard wasn’t hurting or offended or jealous, he turned back to Bradley, shaped his long fine fingers and palm to that lovely throat, and said, ‘Make – _god_  – make love to me. _Fuck_ me.’

Bradley went redder still, and his gaze flickered towards Richard again though he wasn’t quite game enough to look directly. ‘Here and now?’

‘Here and now,’ Colin confirmed.

‘But… that’s hardly fair, is it?’

‘I love him,’ Colin steadily replied, ‘and you may need further direction.’

Bradley guffawed, as much as he was able. But he remained concerned about Richard, bless him. ‘Richard, I don’t wanna make you feel bad.’

‘I never presumed,’ Richard smoothly supplied, ‘to have any claim on Colin’s favours. It does me good to see him with the man he should have been with long before now. But I’ll make myself scarce, if that’s best.’ In fact, obviously that _would_ be best. It was madness to stay, really, and not fair on anyone. Richard began getting up. ‘I’m sorry. It was always my intention to leave you to it.’

‘Richard, _stay_.’ They’d instinctively chorused the demand in tones that brooked no refusal.

At which he huffed a wrung–out laugh, and surrendered back into the armchair.

Bradley nodded, as if satisfied. And then after a moment he swung about, and knelt up on the sofa beside Colin, who slouched down further, gazing up at him. Slowly, Bradley began undoing the buttons of Colin’s shirt, and in an easy conversational tone, Bradley asked, ‘D’you mean what you said?’

‘Argh,’ Colin gurgled, lifting a hand to hide his face. ‘Making love? I’ve never called it that before, I swear. I’m sorry.’

Bradley rolled his eyes. ‘Under the circumstances, d’you think I mind that’s how you think of it…?’ His hands slipped inside Colin’s shirt, which was open now, and ran across the t–shirt that still separated them. Colin might have seemed quite still, slumped there against the back of the sofa, but Richard could see the subtle movements where Colin shook beneath Bradley’s hands, where his body arched and rolled up into Bradley’s touch, seeking more, craving more.

‘So, what d’you… Oh. Fucking.’ Colin looked up steadily at his friend, his dearest friend. ‘Yes. You can fuck me if you want, Bradley.’

‘Here and now…?’ Bradley whispered.

‘Right here and right now,’ Colin answered decisively. And he was sitting up just far enough so that he could wrestle his shirt back off his shoulders and down, lift his t–shirt up and off over his head – and Richard gazed at that beloved long torso, all cool pale skin and a drift of virile dark hair, even while Colin helped Bradley off with his t–shirt – and then both young men were heeling off their shoes, hands each at their own jeans, gazing hungrily at each other even while they were both tangling limbs with denim and cotton, revealing themselves so hard and hot and ready – and then at last Colin was naked except for a black leather wristband, and he lay back down the length of the sofa, with his knees cocked and feet planted just where Bradley was kneeling.

‘Richard…’ Bradley was hushed with wonder, looking down upon his friend.

‘Yes, Bradley?’ In turn, Richard was hoarse. Disbelieving.

‘Direction. Please.’

Colin was smiling gently, and simply waiting.

Richard cleared his throat. ‘Have you done the same, with a woman?’

‘No. Had my share of sex over the years. None of it overly adventurous, though.’

They were both so hard and ready for it, even despite this slight delay, this slight doubt. What could Richard say, really, other than, _Go to it, man!_ ‘Do you have a condom?’

‘Not here,’ Bradley said – but then Colin was holding a foil packet towards him at arm’s length, and Bradley chuckled. ‘Where ’d that come from?’

‘Magic,’ Colin whispered, with a sparkle in his eyes.

Well, Bradley knew what to do with that, at least. He knelt between Colin’s thighs, and rolled it onto himself. ‘Richard?’

‘It’s not so different to what you’re used to,’ Richard assured him.

‘How d’you know? Have you been with a woman?’

‘Yes, I have. More than once.’

‘Oh!’ Bradley looked at him for a moment, and seemed to take reassurance from that; perhaps if Richard could handle both genders, then Bradley figured he should be able to as well. ‘Oh, OK. _Oh…_ ’ he added in a long shaky guttural as he glanced back down to find that Colin had his hand crooked up between his thighs and was lubing himself. ‘Oh, _Colin…_ ’ as he watched, spellbound.

And from there instinct took over, as Colin’s arms lifted to welcome him into an embrace, and between them they found the right conjunction, and at last after some mismatches Bradley was brave enough to push home, and after _one two three_ short jabbing thrusts he was as deep as he could go, and they stayed there, they waited there for long moments, adjusting to this, to this possession, this love, this strange–familiar pleasure.

‘All right?’ Bradley murmured at last.

‘Yes,’ said Colin. ‘ _Yes_.’

And they were moving together, moving, slow–dancing, slow–fucking, and it was intense, it was so intense for all of them, that it was all one when at last Colin spilled over with a cry, and then Bradley followed him with a gut–deep groan, hips bucking hard for a moment, before Bradley collapsed down onto his friend, and they found peace in each other’s heavy embrace.

♦

Richard took a breath. It was entirely possible that the previous breath he’d taken had been some while before, maybe an hour or more. He took a breath, and then another. Eventually, in the hush, he levered himself up out of the armchair, and he stood. He went over to the sofa, and gently ran a hand over Bradley’s fall of fine golden–brown hair, the strong slope of his shoulder. Then he bent to press one last kiss to Colin’s warm damp forehead. ‘Goodbye, my darling,’ he murmured. ‘Fare well, my dear friends.’ And Richard turned away before those confused dark blue eyes could properly meet his – or those sky blue eyes, for that matter – and then he headed out of the apartment, walked until he could hail a taxi, and he didn’t stop moving until Manchester was a hundred miles behind him.

# ‘…wanton poets, pleasant wits…’

  


#### 1 January 2012

The London winter was bleak, and although Richard’s Christmas visit home to Greenock was bright and cheerful, it was over too soon. Work was pleasant, if somewhat overwhelming, and had only seemed to intensify during the festive season. Richard was filming a special for the BBC later in January for which he was preparing, and his agent was currently negotiating on two different acting jobs for February, both guest roles. All of which would have been enough to keep him busy, but the triumph of _Edward II_ had led to all kinds of projects and ideas being passed his way, and he was still too _engaged_ with the whole mad marvellous business to not pay attention, to not at least consider what would be most useful, what would be most interesting. The networking alone could have kept him busy twenty–four hours of every day…

He was currently pondering whether to invest his energies in pursuing a chance to direct a play at the Royal Court Theatre, and also getting involved in helping mentor their young directors program – which would mean limiting the time he was available for _Merlin_ during this coming year. As he pondered the dates and schedules, Richard realised it would be a bit cheeky even to ask, but he felt reasonably sure that Johnny and Julian would try to accommodate him, it was self–evidently a wonderful opportunity, and after all maybe they would all be better off if he didn’t make too much of a nuisance of himself. If his time was restricted, then he and Colin could concentrate on the work, and neither of them would need to feel they had to socialise beyond the simple calls of friendship.

Richard was sure they would remain friends, and perhaps one day if he were very lucky they would work together again. But he feared it might take time to regain their equilibrium, especially with all that had happened on the day they parted. In retrospect, Richard felt quite sure they had crossed a line. He should have walked out, as he’d intended. He shouldn’t have even insisted on witnessing them kiss. He’d just been so afraid that without Richard there to push, Colin would rationalise it all away again, would remain stalwartly attached to a loyalty that Richard had never required of him… He tried not to think much about it, for when he did he plagued himself with second guesses and might–have–beens.

As for the two young men, he assumed the best case scenario; that they were together and happy. It was his one item of faith. Colin and Bradley belonged together, and between them they knew enough to make the relationship work, and all Richard could do for them he’d done.

In the chaos of work and festivities, Richard had managed to ignore a brief voicemail that Colin left him, and he didn’t reply to Colin’s text message on Christmas Day. Though he may have saved it for future maudlin moments. Really, they had no reason to meet or even to talk before Richard was due to start filming _Merlin_ in March. And by then all the feelings and difficulties would be months old, and as good as forgotten; Colin and Bradley would be well established. It was better thus.

And if there happened to be one unopened Christmas present remaining, gathering dust by Richard’s  hearth, and if it had recently been joined by a stupidly expensive birthday present wrapped in black with sapphire blue ribbons, well… no one need ever be any the wiser.

♦

The doorbell rang at eleven in the morning on New Year’s Day. He wasn’t expecting anyone, so Richard gave some thought to not answering it; but in the end he decided that given the oddness of the hour and the day, it was more likely than not to be someone he knew.

It was, of course, Colin Morgan and Bradley James standing there waiting on his doormat, holding hands, with their breath frosting.

‘Hello, Richard,’ said Bradley, head up and looking him fearlessly in the face.

‘Hello, Bradley. Colin.’ Richard dwelt with a pang on the fact that Colin’s head was down, as if the doormat were of particular interest. He offered lamely, ‘Happy new year.’

‘You, too,’ Bradley replied. ‘Can we come in?’

‘Of course. Yes, of course. Come into the warmth.’ He stepped back out of the way – and Bradley walked past him, and then Colin, still hand in hand. As Colin went by with his head down, only a whisper away, Richard offered, lamer still, ‘Happy birthday.’

A poignant flash from those bright blue eyes, and the slightest hint of the kick of a wry smile, and then he was past, and Richard was trying to wrench himself away from gazing after that long lean figure, at least just for time enough to shut the front door. But he did so at last, and then followed them through into the kitchen. ‘Coffee or tea…?’ Richard asked.

‘Coffee, thanks,’ said Bradley. There was a moment’s silence during which Colin didn’t answer, before Bradley prompted, ‘Col?’ and Colin nodded agreement. ‘Coffee,’ Bradley confirmed. Once they’d shed their outer layers, Colin sat himself on one of the tall stools and propped his head up in both hands, while Bradley hovered beside him.

Richard went about the business of boiling the kettle, finding the cafetiere, the ground coffee beans, three mugs. He couldn’t, however, keep himself busy enough not to talk. ‘How have you been? You’ve both been well, I trust?’

‘Yeah, great, thanks,’ said Bradley. ‘Um, how was your Christmas?’

‘Good, thank you. I went home, of course. To Moira’s.’

‘Excellent. How is she keeping?’

‘Oh, she’s very well. We come of, uh, sturdy stock in Greenock.’ He sighed. ‘I didn’t mean for that to rhyme.’

Bradley chuckled obligingly. ‘Sounds about right, though.’

‘Did you, uh –’ Richard thought about what he was really asking, but it was already too late to change track. ‘Did you go home to Devon?’

‘Yeah, I did.’ Bradley was contemplating Colin, and after a moment he continued thoughtfully, ‘And Col went home to Armagh. But I don’t think we’ll be doing that again, unless we have to. Spending Christmas apart, I mean.’

‘Oh,’ said Richard, nodding. ‘I see.’ More fool him for asking, though the answer indicated everything he’d hoped for his two young friends.

Finally the coffee was made, and there was no longer any excuse to keep this stilted small talk going. Richard poured, and set two mugs before Colin and Bradley, and then he settled himself standing across the counter from them, with his own mug steaming before him. Now was the time to announce the purpose for their visit. If indeed there was one.

But Bradley didn’t venture anything further, and Colin hadn’t even spoken yet, so eventually Richard tentatively mused, ‘I’ve been fondly imagining that you two are very happy together… that everything is going well. I trust that I’m not wrong.’

‘No, you’re not wrong,’ said Bradley, though his heavy tone indicated that there had been some work involved. Or there was a problem. ‘We’re happy, and I love him like crazy –’ Bradley took Colin’s hand in his again, and lifted it to his mouth for a kiss – ‘and I know he loves me.’

Colin tilted his head to smile at Bradley.

‘The thing is, Richard…’ Bradley continued, ‘the thing is… he loves you as well.’

‘Oh,’ said Richard in the smallest of voices.

‘And it’s tearing him up, being without.’

And suddenly Colin had lifted his head, and was looking at Richard, pale and so open, so vulnerable, with those dark blue eyes damply brimming over with warmth, shot through with a spark of defiance.

And finally Richard knew the truth. ‘I love him, too,’ he acknowledged, gazing directly back at Colin, though he was answering Bradley. For a moment, Colin looked positively beatific.

‘I knew it!’ cried Bradley – Colin winced – and for a horrid moment, Richard felt a stab of guilt – but it soon became apparent that Bradley thought this was a good thing. ‘I told you,’ he was babbling happily to Colin. ‘Didn’t I tell you? I told him,’ he continued to Richard. ‘I mean, how could anyone _not_ love this guy?’

‘Quite,’ managed Richard in response, though it was the most rhetorical of questions.

‘But he insisted you told him you didn’t, that you only loved him as a friend.’ Bradley guffawed at such a notion.

‘That _is_ what I told him, I’m afraid.’ Richard sighed. ‘That’s what I told myself.’

Bradley, who was still holding Colin’s hand in his, shook at it – and released him. ‘Go on, then, Col,’ he said encouragingly. ‘Go get him!’

Colin promptly went bright red, and glared at Bradley. He had to clear his throat before muttering, ‘Doesn’t mean he wants to do anything about it.’

‘Oh for heaven’s sake,’ Bradley grumbled in reply. ‘What do I have to _do_ with you two…?’

‘No,’ Richard blurted in rather a panic. ‘No, don’t. I mean – what are you proposing? Of course I don’t want to _do_ anything. Colin is with you now, and that’s where he belongs.’

‘Ordinarily, I’d agree with you,’ Bradley responded in very considered tones. ‘But there are special circumstances.’

‘ _What_ special circumstances?’ he asked, feeling completely under siege.

‘It’s Colin,’ Bradley replied very simply. ‘It’s Colin Morgan, and he loves both of us. So he’d better _have_ both of us. Don’t you think?’

‘No. No! I –’

‘It’s not that I don’t want him to be mine,’ Bradley was continuing. ‘But he can’t really be mine unless he’s yours as well. That’s what I figured out, anyway.’

‘No.’ Why was he the only one arguing here? Richard shook his head. ‘It’s not that I haven’t tried such arrangements before. It’s not that I haven’t seen my friends try. But it always comes to grief, one way or another. One hears of such things working out, but it always sounds like fairy tales to me.’ He said, in deeper tones, ‘Of the two of us, Bradley, one would always be missing out. Do you really think either of us can live with that? In the long term? And it’s not just our own loneliness and envy that would do the harm, but Colin’s sense of guilt. We’d all be hurt. We’d all be hurting.’

‘That’s what I said,’ Colin offered in a small voice.

‘Which is when _I_ said,’ Bradley immediately followed on, ‘if that’s what it takes, then I can love Richard, too.’

Silence.

Richard stared at him. Surely he didn’t mean… No, surely not!

But Bradley nodded. ‘If it’s the three of us, then no one misses out. Right?’ And he actually sketched a bright smile. ‘Problem solved!’

Silence.

Colin was gazing at Richard, imploringly – and as if it took great courage for him to do so.

‘I think I need to sit down,’ said Richard.

♦

[   
](http://s737.photobucket.com/albums/xx15/mrs_leary/fic/arrangements/tri_coffee_BIG2.jpg)

♦

They escorted him into the lounge room, and settled him on the sofa. Bradley went to start fetching the coffee things – and by the time he came back from his second trip to the kitchen, Colin was straddling Richard’s thighs, his long fine hands were cupping Richard’s face while Richard’s hands were pressed flat against the small of Colin’s back, holding him close – and they were kissing, kissing, kissing…

Bradley huffed a laugh, and left them to it for a few moments, before he came to sit beside Richard – closer than a friend would, but not encroaching – and he shaped a hand to Colin’s thigh. Colin finished the kiss with a flourish, leant over to kiss Bradley as well – and then he shifted around so that he was sitting in Richard’s lap, curled in against him, letting himself be cradled – ‘I’ve missed you, Richard,’ Colin whispered.

‘And I you, my darling.’

‘Good.’ Meanwhile, Colin had crooked his long legs over Bradley’s lap, and in a fierce moment Bradley hugged them to himself with both arms, pressing his face against those bony denim–clad knees. Colin laughed in husky delight. ‘You’re the best friend I ever had, Bradley James.’

‘And don’t you forget it!’

‘Never.’

They whiled away an hour or more like that, talking and snuggling, and giving themselves over to long lazy kisses from Colin. Until at last Richard’s attentions to Colin’s throat edged further down his torso, and Bradley’s stroking of his thighs eased up to his hips – Colin’s two lovers daring each other on with provoking glances – and at last Colin lay sprawling bonelessly between them, his every breath an abandoned little moan. Then Bradley undid Colin’s jeans, and wrestled them down almost to his knees, tugged down his briefs so that his cock sprang free, hard and eager – and Colin’s head tipped back in surrender as Richard pushed his t–shirt up almost to his shoulders, and bent to gnaw and suck at his nipples.

Colin groaned as Bradley took his balls into his hand, rolled them against his palm, and Richard’s free hand slid down that long slope of stomach to wrap firmly around his cock. ‘Please,’ Colin panted. ‘Please.’ Richard’s mouth roamed happily from chest to shoulders, from collarbones to throat, to the corner of his jaw, the lobe of his ear – while Bradley simply slipped his other hand around under that delectable rear, massaging the flesh for a time before his fingers pushed down, down – and then up again, making Colin gasp. ‘ _Please._ ’

But the two of them played for a lovely long while yet before they finally let him finish…

♦

‘Oh _fuck_ …’ Colin eventually muttered. ‘Fuck!’ he exclaimed, lifting his head to look at them both with the brightest loveliest smile. ‘That was beyond grand… That was the most brilliant thing _ever_.’

‘I’m glad,’ said Richard with light sincerity, even while Bradley retorted, ‘Well, I would think _so_ , you great hussy!’

‘But you know,’ Colin continued conversationally, ‘we’re gonna totally eclipse it.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah… when it’s all three of us together going at it.’

‘Mmm…’ his two lovers agreed.

Colin considered them for a moment. Then he said, ‘Kiss each other. That’s what I want now. If you haven’t both been fooling me all along, then it’s what you want, too. _Kiss_ each other.’

And Richard felt himself blushing, but he dared to look at Bradley – who he saw was likewise embarrassed, but nevertheless looking back at him with a surprisingly fond smile. Richard lifted an enquiring eyebrow, and Bradley nodded – and then they drew in closer together, Colin still a warm damp weight in their arms, and they kissed. Carefully at first, but then after the briefest moment, with a definite interest. Neither of them found it any hardship at all, even if would never have happened but for Colin’s sake.

‘Mmm,’ Bradley commented afterwards, ‘maybe we should take this to bed.’

‘Maybe we should,’ Richard agreed with a chuckle.

‘At this point, I think he owes us _big time_.’

Richard’s chuckle became a happy laugh as he considered them both. ‘Oh, _I must have wanton poets,_ ’ he declaimed, pressing a kiss to Colin’s temple, ‘and _pleasant wits…_ ’ he added, ruffling Bradley’s fine hair.

The two young men were grinning at him, so utterly comfortable and content.

‘Well,’ Richard concluded, ‘it seems we’ve all received gifts today but: Happy birthday, Colin!’

And Colin averred, ‘The very very happiest of all.’

 


End file.
